


Initial Experiments

by Chi-chi-chimaera (gestalt1)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Cunnilingus, Depends on where you live, Horny Teenagers, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trans Male Character, Trans!Geralt, Underage Sex, they're like 17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 23:00:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11838795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gestalt1/pseuds/Chi-chi-chimaera
Summary: Fooling around in Kaer Morhen.





	Initial Experiments

“You alright?” Eskel asked, flopping down onto the rug by the hearth in Geralt’s room. Geralt paid him little mind, twisting about in the mirror as he tugged at the laces of the leather garment that kept his chest bound into shape. The day’s exertion had worked sweat into them and stiffened them up as it dried, and now they were stubbornly refusing to come through the eyelets. 

“Give me a hand with this,” he growled, frustrated. Eskel pushed himself up and began working at the laces too. He was able to get a better grip from his angle, and soon had the binding tunic loose enough for Geralt to slip it off over his head. Geralt took a few deep, full gulps of air, focusing on filling his lungs as much as he could. He risked a glance at his body. The mirror threw back a distorted reflection - evidence of its mediocre craftsmanship - but the sight still made him grimace. The Trial of the Grasses had done a lot to build his muscles and pare the fat from beneath his flesh, to strengthen his jawline and lower his voice, but it couldn’t do anything about the damn breast tissue. He turned his back on the mirror and eyed Eskel, who was hanging the leather tunic up to air by the window.

“Sometimes I think you’re just trying to prove you’re tougher than the rest of us,” Eskel mused, “running about in this thing all day. I get out of breath enough wearing normal training gear.”

Geralt shrugged. “My choice. Until we find a barber-surgeon good enough…”

“You’ll be able to find one yourself once you get out on the Path,” Eskel pointed out, returning to his place by the fire. He sighed in contentment, stretching out in the warmth. “That won’t be much longer now.”

Geralt slipped on a loose linen shirt and sat down himself. His muscles held that reassuring ache of a day’s hard work, and if there had been any damage done by the constriction of his lungs that day, his witcher’s healing was already taking care of it. The heat of the fire was good, working its way down into his bones. He let his eyes flicker half-closed, and let himself fall into a trance that wasn’t quite meditation. He realised after a while that he was watching Eskel. It was in an appreciative kind of way. They’d all of them bulked up after the Trial, when the training had stepped up to a level that none of them would have thought even possible before and puberty had really gotten going. Desire was a natural consequence of the latter, but at first Geralt had tried to suppress his thoughts about other men. He’d wondered if it made him… somehow womanly. But he’d then learned that the grown witchers were ploughing each other at every moment the untested boys weren’t paying attention, and had quickly gotten over that idea.

Had Eskel - or any of the others for that matter - had similar kinds of thoughts about him? He suspected they must have, but he wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Not when his body wasn’t _right_ yet. He’d come to terms with the fact that nothing could be done about what was between his legs, but he couldn’t wait to have those bags of flesh carved off his chest. 

“Think any harder and your brain will fall out your ears,” Eskel said, and Geralt shook himself out of his thoughts to realise that Eskel had begun watching him right back. His friend raised an eyebrow. “What’s eating you?”

“Nothing,” Geralt said, then, “well. Just wondering if you’ve had an eye on any of our brethren.”

“In what sense?” Eskel asked, looking confused. Geralt shifted, feeling an uncomfortable nervous embarrassment. 

“I mean… in a… sexual sense.”

Eskel stared at him a moment. Geralt was finding it difficult to look him in the face, but he risked a glance and saw that there was a flush gradually rising over Eskel’s cheeks. “Obviously I have,” he replied, “I’ve got eyes don’t I? You’ve seen Gwyn move on the pendulum wall, since he always likes to train shirtless. Or that smirk Matis gives when he throws someone back twenty feet with Aard.”

Geralt nodded. He took Eskel’s point. He gathered his courage though to ask, “Anybody else?”

Eskel looked at him with curiosity. “Why are you asking me…” Then he cut himself off, as a light of understanding seemed to dawn in his eyes. Geralt was only glad he had never been prone to flushing himself, else he knew he’d be bright red by now. “Are you… uh… with me?”

“Only if you…”

“I didn’t know if you…” The pair of them spoke at once. Geralt stopped, took a deep breath.

“I want to if you want to,” he said. “Try, I mean. I’ve not done anything before.”

“Nor have I,” Eskel admitted. “Uh, maybe I have thought about you. Wasn’t sure if you’d be comfortable with it though.”

“I’ll give you a kick if you do something I don’t like,” Geralt said, managing a grin. Eskel was right next to him on the furs; it was easy enough to just move, throw a leg over Eskel’s waist and straddle him. “The shirt stays on though.”

“Fair enough.” Eskel shrugged, putting his hands on Geralt’s waist. He leaned up and pressed a kiss to Geralt’s lips. Geralt made a noise of surprise, but quickly started to kiss back. He’d seen this done before, other witchers together in the dark corners of Kaer Morhen, and wondered what it would be like. Eskel’s lips were chapped by wind and weather, and Geralt was sure his own would be the same. He opened his mouth a little, darted out his tongue to get a taste. 

Eskel leaned back, blinking and taken off guard for a second, then said “Huh” in a pleased way and dived right back in. Their kisses turned wet and sloppy, open-mouthed. Geralt found himself getting lost in the experience. It was stoking the growing fire in his loins, and he could feel the hardness of Eskel’s cock beneath him.

“You’re wearing too much,” he said, sliding his hands up beneath Eskel’s shirt.

“I could say the same,” Eskel replied, slipping a finger into the waist of Geralt’s trousers and giving a light tug. 

“Hmmm. You first.” Geralt sat back to start to undo the laces of his trews while Eskel pulled his shirt off over his head. Geralt took a moment to admire the smooth planes of muscle his friend had just revealed, with a light fuzz of hair starting to cover them. He just had to touch. When his wandering hands brushed over one of Eskel’s nipples his friend shuddered. 

“Good?” Geralt asked. 

“Yeah,” Eskel replied. Geralt smirked, and bent down to lick it, which pulled a gasp out of Eskel’s mouth. Geralt sucked, and Eskel arched up towards him. Eskel tugged at his trousers again. “Off. Now.”

Geralt had to get off Eskel and stand up to do so, growling his discontent. He pulled the garment off - not as elegantly as he would have liked - and made short work of his braes as well. It wouldn’t be the first time Eskel had seen him naked, just the first time in this context. All the boys in training bathed together - he hadn’t been exempt just because of the accident of his birth. Eskel shimmied out of his trousers as well, the light from the fire glinting off the sweat beginning to bead on his skin. The flames had lent a pleasant heat to the air in the small room. His cock had been tenting his braes, and it seemed to spring up to slap against Eskel’s belly in a way that Geralt found slightly comical. 

“We could use the bed,” Geralt suggested, indicating the low pallet with a jerk of his head. 

“Get back down here, damn you,” Eskel said impatiently, sitting up and beckoning. Geralt did as requested, shoving Eskel back down and curling over his with a smirk to start kissing him again. As he did so he palmed Eskel’s cock, a little unsure and partly envious. The skin was softer than he’d expected, almost velvety. Eskel cursed, and Geralt let out a pleased rumble - almost a purr. He gave Eskel a few strokes. 

“You like this?”

In response Eskel reached for Geralt’s groin, then hesitated. “Maybe…” he said, then as though making his mind up about something; “What do you usually do? When you jerk off?”

Geralt sat back, letting go of Eskel’s cock, whose hips jerked upwards involuntarily, missing the contact. An idea occurred. “I’ll show you,” he suggested. 

“Only fair I do the same then,” Eskel responded, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. Geralt was seized by a sudden urge to bite them, but time for that later.

He let his right hand stroke down the ridged muscle of his abdomen towards the curls of white hair between his legs, making a show of it. His fingers brushed between the outer folds of his cunt and found his clit, started circling over it. It was like grounding lightning, making the feverish arousal that had been building into a solid, living this. “Like this,” he panted, keeping his eyes fixed on Eskel, who had started stroking his cock with twists of his palm up and over the head of it. “Yeah, gods, you look good.”

Eskel grunted, momentarily wordless. Then he found his tongue again. “Can I…” he panted, “can I use my mouth?”

Geralt had to think about it. For whatever reason, the idea hadn’t really occurred to him since they’d started, though he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t wondered about that at times in the past. Some part of him was a bit reluctant, but that part was distracted by the rest of him which was imagining what Eskel’s tongue might feel like… “Yeah,” he said after a moment. 

Eskel grinned, and rolled them. It took them half off the rug and the cold stone was an unwelcome shock against Geralt’s arse, but Eskel just laughed at his growl of protest. He settled with his head between Geralt’s legs. “You could pull my hair or something,” he suggested.

“Pull it right off your head if you keep messing around,” Geralt replied, resting his heels on Eskel’s back and digging them in for a moment to remind his friend of his earlier promise. Eskel just smirked, parted Geralt’s folds, and dove in. 

Geralt nearly cracked his skull of the floor when his spine arched in pleasure. “Yeah, yeah,” he panted, “that, keep doing that.” Each swipe of Eskel’s tongue was drawing little yelps out of him, making his hips rock up into it without his conscious control. “Keep going, keep going.” His hands had gone to the back of Eskel’s head, just holding him there. “You really want me to pull your hair?” he asked, in a brief moment of clarity. Eskel hummed a yes, and the vibration made Geralt’s whole body shudder with ecstasy. “Okay, yeah.” He wound his fingers in, gave Eskel a tug upwards, found he could kind of guide his rhythm like that. Eskel made a happy sound each time he did. 

The waves of pleasure kept building and building, taking over Geralt’s mind, driving out anything that wasn’t sensation. When his climax came in a drawn out rush of utter white-out bliss it caught him completely off his guard. He had been vaguely aware that he’d been panting and moaning more and more loudly, but in that moment he _howled_. Eskel stopped after a few moments more, looking up at him with Geralt’s hand still tangled in his hair. 

“Thought… thought you said you hadn’t done that before,” Geralt said, his heart starting to slow back towards a slightly more normal tempo. 

“Natural talent?” Eskel suggested, looking a little like someone had hit him with Axii himself. 

Geralt spent a little while longer waiting for his brain to stop dribbling out his ears, then found the presence of mind to ask, “Uhh, did you…?”

“Kinda… humped it out against the floor,” Eskel admitted, looking embarrassed. 

Geralt let his head drop back with a groan. “We’re a mess,” he said. “Didn’t even get to the real action.”

“We can go again,” Eskel suggested, crawling up on all fours to drop down next to and half on top of his. He was a warm and reassuring weight. 

“You a cuddler Eskel?” Geralt asked. 

“Guess I am.” Eskel yawned. “Part two when we wake up?”

Geralt nodded.

**Author's Note:**

> There will probably be more.


End file.
